


the world won't fall apart

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anyways, Evan Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, more to come - Freeform, so does Connor, the first time i tried writing this fic i published it by accident that was. bad, they all do. help them.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-28 04:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: in which evan saves connor's life but he doesn't even mean to.





	1. keep getting burned

**Author's Note:**

> ; i have never written anything for deh and im going with a multi-chap fic??? ouch. let's hope this works out! i've got high hopes for this one i kinda have an plot established soooo who knows !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan is certain he's had, at most, five conversations with Connor in time he's known him, which is strange considering that Evan has - shamefully and mostly unsuccessfully - pined over Connor's sister for the longest amount of time. He recalls that time when Connor found Evan waiting outside one of Zoe's jazz band concerts and stared him dead in the eyes for what must have been a full minute before walking away without another word, and he shudders.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today is going to be a good day, and here's why._

Evan's mind draws a blank, and he tries to grasp at the straws that remain in his mind - they're few and far between, if he's honest. He can't think correctly; it's like if his brain is full of a thick fog that he can't see through.

He snorts at himself - _There's no reason for today to be a good day_ , he thinks - but still sits in the computer lab at 7:48 am anyways, because he's seeing Dr. Sherman today and it would be quite the problem if he showed up to this appointment without at least one half-assed "today will be a good day" letter.

The warning bell is far from ringing, but he closes his laptop anyways, forcing it into the back pocket of his bag before slinging one of the straps over his shoulder with his good arm. Evan will not be late to his first day of his first class of his last year of high school.

As soon as he exits the computer lab, he immediately regrets the decision; summer had made it so he had grown to forget the halls of his high school, and his stomach feels as though it's filled with lead, and there's a heaviness in his chest -

_Calm down. Calm down you're a fucking freak calm down just stop freaking out calm calm calm calm calm._

The halls, too, calm down as he approaches the part of the building where he's supposed to go for his first class. This brings the lead out of his stomach and takes the weights out of his rib cage. He breathes without effort.

"Evan!"

He spins on his heel almost wildly, holding out an arm - his left arm, his _broken_ arm - to catch himself as he tips to the side. He hits his cast against the metal of the lockers, causing a loud noise to fill the emptying hallway and forcing an uncomfortable sensation up his arm and through his body. He shudders softly.

"Wow - Jesus, Evan. Calm down."

That's, like, the theme phrase for today, isn't it?

"I - I'm perfectly calm, Jared. F-fine."

"Doesn't look like it," Jared snorts, then looks down at Evan's broken arm and flashes something like a villainous sneer. "So, you must be, like, the first person in history to break his arm from jacking off too much, right?"

Evan freezes, stepping closer to Jared as he stammers out a response - "No, n- that's not what happened, Jared -"

Jared raises his voice, obviously trying to get Evan annoyed, but Evan is past the point of annoyed and straight on to a sense of drowning panic. "What was that, Evan - you _jacked off to Zoe Murphy's Instagram feed_ , s'that it?"

" _No_ , Jared!" Evan's voice raises an octave and his breath hitches, and he only exhales when Jared steps closer with a look of sorry I just screamed a lie about you in the middle of the hallway when people need to get to their classes. Maybe. Evan hopes.

"No, I - I f-fell out of a tree, and, uh - funny story, because - uh, when I fell, I, uh - there was like, ten minutes where, uh, I just lay there like, oh, yeah, someone's coming, any minute now, and, uh - yeah."

There's a moment of the most awkward silence Evan has ever experienced in his life, and then Jared says, "Uh, where's the funny part?"

"Oh, that nobody came," Evan says with a sad chuckle.

Jared nods, pursing his lips. "Right."

"So, uh, d-do you want to, uh, sign my cast?"

"Why would I do that?"

Evan inhales sharply. "Be-because we're friends?"

"Family friends. There's, like, a huge difference."

Evan gives Jared a halfhearted shrug, because Jared reminds him of this fact every single time Evan comes within 5 feet of him. It does not do well for him. Jared gives Evan this weird look after Evan retreats back into himself, picking at the hem of his shirt with the fingers protruding from his cast. Then his mind wanders, and then it's _your mom had to pay a lot of money for your hospital bill you know that right, and your insurance may go through the fucking roof and maybe she'd have the money to enjoy herself at all if you didn't keep fucking up like do you know how much your therapy costs and your prescriptions and you -_

"Hey, Connor!"

Jared's voice (thankfully) snaps Evan back to reality, and Evan just watches the scene unfold before him. There's something like a dark cloud looming over the two - three - of them, and Evan just _knows_ that nothing good can come out of this encounter. Jared's natural instinct of playful douche-ness just _cannot_ work out against stone-cold, unblinking -

Connor Murphy.

Evan is certain he's had, at most, five conversations with Connor in time he's known him, which is strange considering that Evan has - shamefully and mostly unsuccessfully - pined over Connor's sister for the longest amount of time. He recalls that time when Connor found Evan waiting outside one of Zoe's jazz band concerts and stared him dead in the eyes for what must have been a full minute before walking away without another word, and he shudders. 

Connor Murphy does _not_ like Evan Hansen. Or so he's established, because he has enough evidence to do so.

"Lovin' the new haircut! Very... school-shooter chic." Evan can _hear_ the smirk in Jared's voice, and he takes a slight step back because he is 100% sure his earlier fears are going to come true in an instant.

Connor says nothing, only stares at Jared the same way he'd stared at Evan that night. Except, Connor's expression isn't questioning; it's the stone-cold, signature, Connor Murphy stare. _He should get that trademarked_ , Evan thinks, and immediately hates himself for it because it wasn't even _funny_ but he has tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from keeping in laughter.

Jared uncrosses his arms and shifts his weight, moving one of his hands to one of the straps of his bag. "I was kidding," he says, slouching. "It was a joke?"

"Oh, I know," Connor says, his expression unchanging. "I'm laughing. Can't you tell?"

Jared casts a backward glance at Evan, who watches without changing the look on his face, fearing that any attention drawn to him from Connor would be all negative. It's a rational fear, he decides, leaning against the lockers and then flinching away after the pressure on his broken arm sends another awkward feeling shooting through his side.

"Am I not laughing hard enough for you?" Connor's voice is conflicting - Evan takes a few moments to pick apart its layers. Initially, it seems like a real question - it's rhetorical only when you've dug for that sarcasm - and the threat is an almost nonexistent undertone, but it's there nonetheless, and somehow vibrant and hidden at the same time.

Connor wasn't even directing it towards Evan, but Evan is so scared that can't really think straight, and there's the fog in his head again.

"Wow," Jared says pointedly, stepping back to turn around. "Wow, you're... such a freak." He spins and walks away.

Which leaves Evan and Connor having a staredown in the hallway.

Entirely involuntarily, Evan lets out the weirdest chuckle he's ever heard from anyone, including himself. It's thick with discomfort and nervousness, but, then again, so is he, slouched but not supporting his body on anything because it hurts to lean on the wall for support.

"What the fuck are _you_  laughing at?"

Evan looks up, taking a step backwards as his flight response kicks in. "No-no, I wasn't -"

"Stop fucking laughing at me!"

"No, I -"

"You think I'm a freak?"

 _I'm a freak you're not a freak really the only freak here is me you really shouldn't be talking about that._ "No, I don't -"

"You're the fucking freak!"

Evan doesn't even notice Connor storming toward him, and suddenly Evan is on the floor where he shouldn't be, and his back is on fire, and his good arm - which he has used to break his fall - feels awkward and, really, in a lot of pain.

He staggers to his feet, still partway in shock and hurting. He'll have bruises on his back - he bruises easily, anyways, so these will be pretty bad ones.

He puts his entire back weight on the lockers, and he uses two fingers to massage the space in between his eyebrows because his head has started to hurt and that either satiates the pain or acts like a placebo - either way, it makes him feel better, and "whatever works" is literally Evan's philosophy when it comes to this.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, he's hit by this train and he can hear the blood pumping in his ears and all he feels is the fist around his heart, forcing this tightness into his chest that he knows means _bad bad bad_.

His hand shoots to his chest to make sure his heart is actually still beating - he always does that - before he focuses on his breathing, which never _really_  works but he's got to have _something_  to focus on or he'll just focus on the panic that fills his lungs and threatens to drown him. He sees that people have begun to walk through the hall but he doesn't move, not even when someone in a locker nearby where he's standing tries to get their things. He doesn't really hear anything though, just a lot of buzzing and the blood coursing through his ears and his heart, simultaneously racing and stationary -

And then, the warning bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; well that was that i guess !! i hope ths is promising to some of u guys eee i'm not too proud of it but once i get to write my own stuff and not just recall it sounds a lot less like an essay, i promise ,,
> 
> ; follow me on tumblr & instagram @forforevr ! much love !


	2. out of touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One minute before the late bell rings, Connor can hear heavy footsteps running down the hall, and into the classroom shoots the blue-clad boy who Connor had pushed to the ground not five minutes before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; aahh sorry about the long wait !! this one is also kinda filler i don't really expect to get the plot up and kicking until later on?? sorry heh

Connor Murphy should  _not_ be sitting in this classroom.

It says it on his schedule - room 103D - but he doesn't think he belongs here. Not here, surrounded by people  _so_ much smarter than he is, people who make principal's honor roll in their sleep and have 4.0 GPAs constantly, like clockwork, and who always get paid to do other people's homework because these are the  _smart kids_.

Connor is a "smart kid", but he's not one of the  _smart kids_. Yet, here he is, surrounded by a multitude of them - his new AP Government classroom is a breeding ground for the school's top-tier nerds, or people who could use an AP class to boost their GPA for graduation, or because they were forced by their parents into taking the class, or because they had nothing better to do.

If Connor had to fall into any of those categories, he thinks he'd fall into the third, because his parents had helicoptered over him in the fourth quarter of his junior year when the next year's course selection papers went out. They'd offered their scattered suggestions -  _oh, Connor, should you really be taking honors English when you've still got AP English Literature to take?_ \- and he'd taken a lot of them into account. In fact, he only has two classes this year that  _aren't_ AP.

Connor is a smart kid, and he knows it. His lack of the _smart kid_ label is more of a blessing than a curse, because if he has to do other people's AP Calculus homework, even if it _is_ for money, he may actually drop out of school entirely.

 _The smart kid label beats the stoner label, though_ , Connor thinks, and he hates how right that part of his mind is.

His excessive train of thought is interrupted by a pointed array of movement coming from next to him - he tips his head to the left to see none other than Jared fucking Kleinman making a show out of sitting next to him. Like if it's an act of charity. Connor takes this moment to realize that not many people have chosen to sit near him; a lot of the people who are around him happen to be new faces. Connor assumes they're either transfers from elsewhere (poor souls, switching schools in senior year) or have just never interacted with him before.

"What," Connor says, turning so that his legs face toward Jared. It's more of a statement than a question.

"What do you mean, what? I can sit wherever I want to, Mr. Murphy."

"You know, Kleinman, what if I just pulled out a glock, like, right now?"

"Then you'd just be proving me right," Jared says, leaning back in his seat and putting up his legs on the desk. It looks like an uncomfortable position, and Connor knows all too well that he's just doing it to punctuate his sentence, like, _I'm Jared Kleinman and I'm cool because I touched a boobie for the first time this summer_. Connor snorts at his thoughts, earning himself a weird look from Jared.

One minute before the late bell rings, Connor can hear heavy footsteps running down the hall, and into the classroom shoots the blue-clad boy who Connor had pushed to the ground not five minutes before. Connor watched with curious eyes as Evan Hansen staggers to the back of the class and plants himself directly in front of him.

_Why here, of all places?_

Connor realizes that Evan is probably here to sit near Jared and the girl in front of him, some girl who was known for taking all APs, maintaining a 6.0 weighted GPA like if she'd been paid to do it, and being active in more extracurriculars than the amount of hours in a day allow for her to participate in. But Evan also probably hadn't noticed that Connor is sitting right behind him, because when he turns to say something to Jared, he flinches at whatever part of Connor that he sees in his peripheral vision.

The girl in front of Jared - _Alana_ , Connor realizes finally, smiling to himself because trying to figure out her name was killing him slowly - turns around to join in on the conversation. It becomes a muddle in Connor's head, sounding a lot like how all the adults in the _Peanuts_ cartoons sounded, so he lays his head down on the desk until he goes back into an upright position as the last bell leaves the class in pin-drop silence.

Their teacher, a stocky man who has to be around his mid-50s, introduces himself briefly and goes straight into taking attendance - once he finishes, he says, rather pointedly, "I hope you like where you're sitting, because none of you are moving from where you are."

Connor sees Evan stiffen in front of him and something like guilt passes through him for a fraction of a second. 

The teacher catches Connor's attention once again when he says something about a project, _just to kick off the year with something easy, I'll guide you guys through the whole way, just you wait and see how easy of an A this'll be, it's just an intro to the class because this is an intensive class, you did, of course, sign up for an AP course, guys_. 

He assigns partners, but he doesn't really assign them per sé; there's an even amount of people, so he says that, instead of assigning them, everyone will work with the person sitting in front of them.

Evan Hansen turns around to Connor with this expression in his eyes as though he's facing death itself. Connor feels another pang of guilt flash through his very being.

_This is not going to be fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; follow me @forforevr on instagram and tumblr to keep up with me !!!
> 
> ; leave kudos and subscrobe !! thank uuu much love !


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